


Revery Alone Will Do

by runsinthefamily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bees, M/M, Wings, naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Show, no one ships Destiel as hard as you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revery Alone Will Do

The humming woke him.

Dean sat up in the back seat of the car, warm and groggy and mildly irritated. Ten minutes of shut-eye, was that too much to ask? Sun streamed in the windows, that weird humming vibrated in his eardrums. He stuck one finger in his ear and wiggled it.

"The fuck?" he muttered and then the roof of the car creaked. 

He went out the door and rolled across the ground, coming up into a firing stance, gun tracking the shape on top of the shitty yellow beater. Vaguely humanoid, seated. He couldn't make sense of it for a moment, blinking in the sunlight, wondering why it was moving that way, shimmering, _seething._ Then he registered the cloud of tiny yellow and black specks that hovered around it, diving in and landing and then taking off again.

"Bees," said the figure, in Cas' voice. "They speak by dancing. It's very interesting."

"Cas," said Dean, before words failed him.

"I didn't bring them with me," Cas said, as if that were something that Dean had expressed concern over. "They live in a tree a mile west of here. I was waiting for you to wake up, and then I got bored, and so I fluoresced for a while." He turned his featureless, bee-swarmed head toward Dean. "Ultraviolet light," he explained, which explained nothing.

"Get rid of the bees, please," said Dean, with what he thought was admirable restraint.

"Very well," said Cas, a little petulantly. The humming rose in volume, drowning out the sound of the breeze through the grass, and the bees began to leave, a steady cloud rising into the air and streaming west over the field. His face emerged first, the straight lines of his eyebrows, the arch of his nose. He opened his eyes as the bees vacated his eyelids and looked at Dean. "This tickles," he commented, working his mouth a little. A bee crawled along the plush cushion of his lower lip and then launched itself. His hair showed, and then his neck. His arms lifted, shedding tiny bullet-like bodies. He turned his hands palm up, flexing his fingers. A bee sat in the centre of his left palm, wiggling its wings. "Go on, then," said Cas. "Go home."

They lifted en mass, a surprisingly large cloud of zipping, whirring needles on wings, and Dean stepped back a few paces, warily. Cas, in the middle of the whirl, lifted his head and smiled. Then they were gone, skimming the grass, reminding Dean uncomfortably of a bodiless demon in flight. It couldn't hold his attention for long, though.

"So," said Cas. "I was going to tell you something but now I forget what it was. Perhaps you could tell me something."

"Cas," said Dean. "You're naked."

Cas tilted his head, so like his old self that Dean's heart contracted suddenly, sharply, in his chest. "Tell me something I don't know," he said, deadpan, and Dean couldn't help it, absolutely could not keep himself from laughing. It was that or scream, which Cas didn't like, or cry, which he wasn't sure he remembered how to do, and so he sat down in the grass and laughed until he couldn't breathe anymore.

The car creaked and then Cas sat down in front of him, naked as a jaybird and utterly without shame, his pale skin almost glowing in the sun. His - Jimmy's - fuck, this shit got confusing - body was lean and finely muscled, no bulk, very little body hair, no scars that Dean could see. He swallowed the hysterical tail end of his laughing jag and averted his eyes. 

"Put some damn clothes on," he said.

"I like the sun," said Cas. "I understand why humans take off most of their clothing and lie in its light."

"The key word there being 'most,'" said Dean. "Put some pants on at least."

"Dean," said Cas. "I am an angel. Human societal taboos are irrelevant to me."

"Well they aren't to me. Pants. Please," Dean added.

There was a rustle and Cas was wearing the white hospital pants. "You were incorrect," he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

Cas smiled sidelong at Dean. "Not 'junkless' after all."

"You," Dean began, but there was the sound of phantom wings and he was talking to the air. A single bee landed on the knee of his jeans and paced a little half-circle, rubbing its wings together. 

Sam was waiting, and Bobby was still MIA, and Crowley wasn't going to cough up the goods until they found themselves a righteous bone, which dammit, he should have asked Cas about, and Dean needed to be on the road five minutes ago. Instead he sat in the grass, feeling the sun beat warm on his neck and shoulders, and watched the bee dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from To make a prairie, by Emily Dickinson
> 
> To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,  
> One clover, and a bee.  
> And revery.  
> The revery alone will do,  
> If bees are few.


End file.
